


Hell Leaves Its Mark

by SerotoninUp



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Dubious Consent, Episode: s05e01 Really Sad Devil Guy, F/M, Groping, Kissing, Lucifer (TV) Season/Series 05 Part 1, Missing Scene, Mistaken Identity, Non-Consensual Touching, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Sad Chloe Decker, Scared Chloe Decker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26366539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerotoninUp/pseuds/SerotoninUp
Summary: “You should kiss me again,” Chloe suggests, half-teasing, half-serious. She reaches up to pull the pins out of her bun, allowing her hair to fall in soft waves around her shoulders, and waits for him to respond with a pleased smirk or a clever quip.Tempting the Devil, darling?Instead, he seems to withdraw into himself, his expression shuttered. The smile slides slowly off her face, and a knot forms in her stomach. Her Lucifer, the Lucifer who left for Hell two months ago, would have leapt at the chance to kiss her again. The knot in her gut twists, becomes a sharp pang of sorrow.How much of the man she loved had she lost down there?
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	Hell Leaves Its Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags, darlings! No graphic SA here, but there are descriptions of unwanted touching and mildly aggressive behavior, not to mention Lucifer isn't actually Lucifer, so that's a dubious consent warning for the entire fic.

After the shootout, and after Lucifer’s well-timed, shocking return, and after the reunion kiss she’d been resolutely _not_ fantasizing about for the past two months, Chloe resumes her role as a sensible, responsible detective and calls in the backup units. And in the subsequent chaos of securing the crime scene and giving her statement a dozen times over to a dozen different unis, she loses track of Lucifer.

Chloe half-expects him to be gone when she finally leaves the house, vanished as mysteriously as he’d arrived. Perhaps he’d just popped up from Hell for those few minutes necessary to ensure her safety, and he’d already returned to his lonely throne while she’d been busy following procedure and prioritizing the goddamn case over something as momentous as his reappearance.

She stands on the sidewalk and looks up and down the moonlit street, but he’s nowhere in sight. Her heart plummets. She’d finally gotten him back, and he’d slipped through her fingers again. She bites her lip to stave off her tears and blinks up at the stars.

“Detective?”

Chloe whirls at the sound of his voice. He stands just around the corner of the house, lurking in the shadows, a lit cigarette between his lips. The swell of relief at seeing him still here on Earth nearly makes her lightheaded, and she can’t hold back her smile as she walks across the yard to join him.

She examines him as she approaches, her trained eye picking up on the subtle differences, the changes he’s gone through during his time away. He’s leaner, the lines of his body more tense, the curve of his mouth sharper as he smiles at her. Something in her hesitates again, as it did inside the house when she flung herself into his arms and kissed him, some small part of her heart that whispers its doubts.

He tosses the cigarette into the grass and grinds it under his heel into the dirt, then reaches for her, catching her wrists. He pulls her into the shadow of the house, and then further, until she rests in the comforting circle of his arms.

Chloe nestles against his chest and basks in his warmth, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. It seems unreal that he’s here with her now, after so many weeks spent convincing herself she’d never see him again. She pulls away slightly to look up at him, and he gazes down at her with such intense adoration that her breath catches in her throat and heat pools low in her belly. She tilts her head to the side and bites her lip. His eyes linger on her mouth.

“You should kiss me again,” Chloe suggests, half-teasing, half-serious. She reaches up to pull the pins out of her bun, allowing her hair to fall in soft waves around her shoulders, and waits for him to respond with a pleased smirk or a clever quip. _Tempting the Devil, darling?_

Instead, he seems to withdraw into himself, his expression shuttered. The smile slides slowly off her face, and a knot forms in her stomach. Her Lucifer, the Lucifer who left for Hell two months ago, would have leapt at the chance to kiss her again. The knot in her gut twists, becomes a sharp pang of sorrow.

How much of the man she loved had she lost down there?

But then he grins at her, and Chloe’s reservations melt away in the face of such unabashed joy. Lucifer cups her cheek with one hand; the other trails down her arm to thread her fingers between his. Chloe holds her breath as his lips brush against hers.

The kiss starts out slow and tender. Lucifer has always kissed her like this, as if she is something delicate and precious to him. And she loves being treasured and cherished, truly, but she needs something more from him now. She deepens the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth, and a thrill of victory sweeps through her at the soft, surprised sound he makes.

He returns the kiss with an intensity that leaves her breathless. Chloe drops his hand to wrap her arms around his neck, and Lucifer takes the opportunity to bury his freed hand in her hair, his grip tightening as golden-brown strands tangle around his fingers. The slight twinge of pain makes her inhale sharply, and Lucifer immediately breaks the kiss, pulling away to look at her, eyes wide and questioning.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, and Chloe smiles up at him, touched by his concern.

“Only a little bit,” she reassures him, as heat spreads across her cheeks. “It’s okay. I kind of liked it.”

He lets out a short, relieved laugh at her confession, then frames her face with his hands. His fingers tremble against her skin. Backlit and haloed by the moonlight, he seems like something out of a dream, a fey, half-wild creature, both familiar and yet so unlike the Lucifer she remembers.

Chloe leans into his touch, then impulsively turns her head to press a kiss against the palm of his hand. The small gesture must please him; he responds with a low, approving hum, then ducks his head to run a trail of kisses across her jaw before tugging lightly on her hair. She closes her eyes and lets her head fall back. Lucifer keeps one hand in her hair, wrapping his other arm around her waist to hold her steady while his lips find the pulse point in her throat; he presses hungry, open-mouthed kisses to that delicate spot, as if he wants nothing more than to devour her, body and soul.

His enthusiasm is utterly intoxicating, and she sways into him as if she’s actually drunk on his touch. She catches his face in her hands, forcing his head up so she can kiss him again. His hand leaves her hair to slip beneath the hem of her shirt, and his fingertips graze the bare skin of her waist; his touch is electric, sending shivers through her body, and Chloe whimpers into his mouth. Emboldened by her response, his hand travels higher, fingers tracing imaginary lines of heat across her skin, and she wants, oh _God,_ she wants him, all of him: devil, angel, she doesn’t care as long as he’s hers.

But when he brushes against the underside of her breast, the reality of the situation suddenly crashes to the forefront of her mind: they’re necking like hormonal teenagers at an active crime scene with a whole crowd of her coworkers just around the corner. Chloe makes a small sound of protest and presses her hands against Lucifer’s chest, a subtle indication that it’s time to stop.

He must mistake her response for pleasure, because he cups her breast in his hand, teasing her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra, then pulls her body flush against his. The evidence of his arousal presses against her hip, hot and hard, immediately dispelling any lingering doubts she may have had in regards to his desire for her.

“Lucifer, wait,” Chloe gasps, breaking their kiss and pushing more insistently against his chest, trying to prevent him from taking this any further. But he only pulls her tighter against him, then shifts forward, trapping her against the side of the house with his body. He leans down to press his lips against the sensitive spot behind her ear, while his hands circle her waist and his fingers dig into her sides, his touch suddenly too hard, too rough. Chloe wedges her hands beneath his, her nails leaving scratches across her skin, and finally she manages to break his hold on her.

He looses a low, frustrated groan before catching her wrists and pinning her arms against the house. Disbelief chokes her, renders her mute; panic sets her pulse fluttering. Lucifer’s mouth trails down her throat, and she recoils at the unexpected sting of pain as he sucks a bruise into her skin. Unbidden, the image of a scarred, red face and black, burning eyes rises up in her mind.

Once upon a time, before she accepted that side of him, she’d feared the Devil. But even then, she’d never been afraid of Lucifer. Her partner. Her friend.

_Do I scare you?_ asks a voice out of her memory.

_Yes,_ her heart cries.

“Stop,” Chloe begs, her voice hoarse. “Lucifer, _please_.”

Finally, he listens to her; his body goes still. Chloe’s heart pounds, sick adrenaline coursing through her veins. And then Lucifer’s mouth leaves her throat, and his hands release her wrists. The wave of relief that rolls through her at the absence of his touch has her blinking back tears.

Lucifer takes a step back, his expression dark, unreadable. Watching him in this moment, Chloe can’t suppress the sudden thought that she’s looking at a complete stranger, some Hellish doppelgänger wearing an ill-fitting Lucifer costume. Her throat tightens and her mouth goes dry, and she shivers under his blank, unnerving gaze.

And then he blinks, and suddenly he’s her Lucifer again. His brow furrows, eyes shining with remorse as he lifts a hand to touch the sore spot on her throat. His fingers stop just shy of her skin.

“Detective,” he says, his voice strained. “I’m so sorry.”

Chloe folds her arms across her chest. She takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly.

Lucifer shoves his hands into his pockets and just stands there, looking at her with the sad, wide-eyed expression of a kicked puppy. She wants to soothe him, wants to reassure him that she understands, wants to tell him that his temporary lapse of control is okay.

It’s not okay.

He takes another step away from her, his shoulders hunched. He’s obviously ashamed of his behavior. It should make her feel better.

It doesn’t.

She gazes at him, silent and contemplative. That sharp jawline, those soft brown eyes, even his damnably kissable lips—he looks exactly as she remembers. But the Lucifer she remembers would have stopped himself at the first sign of her discomfort. He wouldn’t have ignored her protests or violated her boundaries or forced his affections on her, and she doesn’t know how to reconcile his abhorrent behavior with the man she knows and trusts and loves.

His time in Hell changed him. She understands that. It’s Hell, after all. It’s not meant to be a pleasant place. Logically, it follows that whoever rules Hell isn’t meant to be a pleasant ruler. She doesn’t even want to imagine the things he must have done while he was there. And after thousands of years living in that role, she doesn’t expect him to shed the persona of the King of Hell overnight. But she does expect him to show the common decency and respect he’s given her throughout their years of partnership.

“That won’t happen again,” she says. It’s not a question.

“No,” Lucifer promises swiftly. “Never.” His expression is one of anguished sincerity.

Chloe nods, her eyes flitting across his face, and comes to a decision. Either her Lucifer still exists somewhere in there beneath the lingering shroud of Hell, or he’s changed so completely during his time away that he’s become a stranger to her, a different person entirely. The only way to know for sure is to give him time, to be patient, to watch and listen and learn.

“Do you need a ride home?” she asks.

He tilts his head at her and frowns. “Are you sure?”

“You’re my partner, Lucifer,” she reminds him, her voice soft. “I trust you. We’ll work this out together.”

Some nebulous emotion flits across his face, there and gone too quickly for her to place it.

“I appreciate the offer, Detective,” he says. “But it’s not necessary. I can find my own way back to Lux.”

Relief and regret roll through her in equal measure. “Will I see you at the precinct tomorrow?”

He smiles at her, and it’s _his_ smile, the sweet, vulnerable expression he seems to reserve just for her. “Of course, Detective.”

And despite the moment of terror he’s just put her through, Chloe can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope.


End file.
